


Morning

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape hates Christmas, and Lupin’s a brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As soon as Severus wakes up, he regrets it.

On any other day, he would at least have that single second of grace where he’d adjust and wouldn’t know what day it was. But today it’s rather hard to miss, as his lover’s leaning over him in an overt red Santa hat.

“Merry Christmas,” Remus purrs, bending to kiss Severus on the nose. Severus grunts grumpily and rolls over, which takes considerable effort with Remus straddling him like that. It also makes it entirely too difficult to pull the blankets up over his head, so he settles for burying his face in the pillows. Apparently unfazed, Remus simply chuckles. “Come on, darling. We have plenty of cards to read and presents to open, and you’re certainly not going to make me do that alone.”

Severus pretends he didn’t hear the ‘darling’ remark. He turns his head slightly out of his pillow to hiss, “We do not.”

“Oh, don’t play that ‘I’m-a-lonely-old-man-that-no-one-likes’ act, Severus. You’re very loved, and you know it.”

Severus feels more than sees a messy kiss pressed to the back of his neck, and he shakes his head afterwards like a five-year-old trying to dislodge cooties. He’s too busy doing that to retort with something incredibly mature like, ‘I am not.’

“Happy Holidays,” Remus tries again, but Severus still refuses to return the sentiment. He knows it’s something Remus is going to be trying to pull from him all horrible day, and he’s simply not going to do it. Christmas is an infantile, ludicrous, muggle holiday in which two grown men have no business participating. He isn’t going to indulge in Remus’ silly yuletide greetings, and that’s that. 

But when Remus climbs off him, he does begrudgingly roll over and slowly adjust to sitting up. The pale light cuts in through his dark curtains, and he rubs his eyes against it, brushing his dark hair out of his face. Remus sits patiently (and far too brightly) next to him. 

The only thing in the room to disturb Severus’ regular life is Remus’ outfit. Otherwise, he’s completely refused to decorate his home—tinsel is a hassle, and candy canes are ridiculous, and no, he certainly isn’t going to buy all the little snowman knickknacks at the market that Remus likes to taunt him with. Said pest is dressed today in velvet red trousers with an obnoxious white trim. Fortunately, his shirt is only a regular shirt, plain and white.

Frankly, Severus would rather he wake up to Remus in no shirt at all, but he knows how self-conscious Remus is about his scars, despite Severus’ many non-verbal assurances that he finds Remus absolutely delectable as is. So Severus settles for the stupid outfit.

He is, after all, a lonely old man whom no one likes. And he knows he’s lucky to have Remus, even though he’ll never, ever say it.

Because it’s a holiday, and there’s extra cheer in the air, Severus feels the need to be especially disagreeable as he stumbles out of bed. He makes sure to look exceptionally unhappy as he slowly stands up, quite convinced that he can hear his old bones creaking. He stumbles past his far-too-pleasant boyfriend to the attached bathroom and is secretly contented when he’s followed.

Severus can see Remus behind him in the mirror as he squeezes a line of toothpaste over his toothbrush and gets to scrubbing. Then Remus promptly hugs him from behind for no apparent reason before strolling back out of the bathroom.

This leaves Severus to brush his teeth, magic off any stubble, and glare into the mirror in peace. He’s about to commit to a shower when Remus appears back in the doorway holding an assortment of cards.

“I’m going to shower,” Severus declares icily. “Surely even you aren’t foolish enough to suggest bringing those in there.”

“Aw,” Remus cheerily teases. “And here I thought you’d enjoy my plan to destroy them.”

Severus scowls. It never ceases to amaze him how Remus can so blatantly brush off his sarcasm and even occasionally counter it. Without another word, Remus walks around him and sits down on the toilet next to the shower. He places the haphazard pile of cards atop the sink counter and chooses one of them.

“Dear Severus,” Remus reads aloud, but Severus cuts him off before he can continue.

“Lupin, you are not reading those out.”

“Are you going to read them later?”

“Of course not.”

“Well then, how else are you supposed to get your messages of love?”

Remus turns back to his open card, declaring loudly, “Dear Severus, I wish you a very happy Christmas. I wish you’d come to the manor for dinner, you know how much we love and miss you—”

“It doesn’t say that,” Severus interjects coldly.

“It does too, see?” He holds it up, and Severus glares at the silvery, flowing penmanship of his godson. “Anyway. We love and miss you. We’d love to see you.” Remus pauses before continuing, “You could bring Professor Lupin, you know. We’re all just happy that you’re happy. Best wishes, Draco.” Remus puts the card down, sighing, “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

Severus glares.

Remus picks out another card and begins to read it aloud but stops almost immediately. Severus is momentarily grateful before Remus starts blushing rather profusely, and then Severus knows immediately who the card is from and snatches it out of his hands.

“Lucius seems to have some... er... interesting ideas th—”

“We are not discussing Lucius’ perverted holiday nonsense,” Severus hisses. Remus isn’t the only full grown adult with apparently nothing better to do than torment him, and Severus doesn’t have to read the card to guess at what sort of absurdities it contains. Severus scoops up the entire pile and storms back into the bedroom, dropping it on top of the bed to be disposed of at a later hour. He marches back into the bathroom, where Remus is still sitting innocently.

“Should we move on to treats, then?” Remys clasps his hands over his lap. “I think we should bake some gingerbread, don’t you?”

“I don’t bake,” Severus says very bluntly. Even though as a potions master he’s rather excellent in the kitchen, he still isn’t going to bake with Remus. He’s gone down that road before, and as much fun as it is to lick flour off every inch of his lover’s body, it’s not worth the inevitable silliness and mess that follows.

“Alright, then I’ll make you treats. You just sit there and provide moral support.”

That will still result in silliness and mess. But Severus finds himself warily indulging the idea, asking, “What’ll I have to do in return?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus smiles innocently. “Have me on your lap and ask me what I want for Christmas? Just something a little cheery, you don’t even have to dress up...”

“It’s a little late for that,” Severus grumbles. “Obviously I already bought your present. It’s already downstairs.” 

“Can’t I also have the one up here?” Remus stands up with his words. Severus rolls his eyes at the teasingly raised eyebrow and instead turns to wrench the shower curtains open. He turns on the tap and tries to ignore his bratty (albeit beautiful) lover, who seems intent on dragging him into an absolutely preposterous holiday he otherwise has no interest in. But he can see Remus stripping in the corner of his eye, and his resolve weakens.

Severus slips out of his pajamas with no regard for grace. He also stubbornly doesn’t look at Remus, who has a nasty habit of turning the simple act of disrobing into a rather showy display. Not that Severus normally minds, but today is Christmas, of all things, and he’s absolutely determined not to give in and smile. He steps under the warm spray and turns expectantly for Remus to join him.

However, Remus remains outside the shower, completely naked and grinning. Severus tries not to let his eyes roam like they always do. He knows every inch of Remus like the back of his hand, and still, somehow, always feels the need to drink it all in. He knows every muscle, every tuft of hair, every jagged scar, and every nook and cranny. He’s memorized the thin frame, the worn features, the light brown, tousled hair and the deep hazel eyes. Remus has his arms crossed casually over his chest, watching Severus levelly.

After a moment, Remus asks, “You’re that determined not to have fun, are you?”

Severus lets the warm water burn a pink stripe down his less-attractive, pallid form, and drawls, “You know my views on the matter.”

“And they only make me want to convert you more.”

Severus scowls. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Are you sure, Severus? There’s a lot of fun to be had, you know.”

“I’m quite sure, Lupin.”

After another long minute, Remus shrugs and drops his hands. “Alright, well, if you’re sure...” He turns around to exit the bathroom, butt naked.

He gets to the door before Severus indignantly growls, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

His eyes follow Remus’ swaying ass, but they shoot back up when Remus turns back around. “To go have fun with the holiday, of course, even if I have to do it myself. Someone has to make holiday treats.”

“And you can’t do that after a shower?” Severus sneers.

Remus grins mischievously and purrs, “But why, Severus? I’m very much in the holiday mood, and you don’t want anything to do with the holiday, remember?” His voice lowers an octave as he erotically growls, “You don’t want me to sit and squirm in your lap, and you don’t want to stuff your big package into my stocking.” Another pause, and Remus bites his lip as if to stifle a moan, his eyes going half-lidded. He throatily adds, “And you don’t want to come down my tight chimney...” 

As stupid as that all sounds, Severus knows full well that Remus can see his erection, but he doesn’t do anything to hide it. “Remus,” he warns, “get in the shower, now.”

“Mmm, no, I think I’ll go bake cookies...” Remus leisurely fingers the doorway, although he should be fingering Severus’ body. “I don’t want to be on Santa’s naughty list, anyway.”

“Remus, get in the shower!”

Remus laughs, deep and rich. “Severus, I want those cookies.”

“You can have them later!”

“I want them now. Although, I suppose there is a way you could sway me...” He raises an eyebrow questioningly, and without another word on Remus’ part, Severus knows exactly what bargain is on the table.

He tries glaring for a few moments, with the loud pitter-patter of the faucet between them. But Remus doesn’t budge. Severus doesn’t either.

At last Remus surmises, “So, you really won’t make gingerbread with me? I should just leave...? Perhaps go read a few more cards...? I’m not sure if I’ll find any more as amusing as Lucius’, but now I am rather curious as to what his gift is...”

Grinding his teeth together almost loud enough to drown out the water, Severus growls, “You will do no such thing.”

“You’ll bake with me, then?” Remus’ playful smile is so radiant it’s almost blinding. 

Severus waits another good chunk of time before very begrudgingly conceding, “Yes. ...But only if you get in the shower right this instant!”

“Yes, sir,” Remus practically chirps, and he barrels across the floor so fast Severus momentarily fears being knocked straight off his feet. Remus hops into the tub with all the grace of a mutt and Severus finds himself with an armful of boyfriend kissing at his face and holding onto his back. It takes Severus a moment to adjust, and then he’s responding with vigor.

He cups Remus’ beautiful face and kisses him deeply, all frustration forgotten, just like it always is when they actually get down to it. Remus does this on purpose, he knows. Tortures him every holiday. But it’s hard to stay mad at a gorgeous ball of sunshine so intent on warming him up. 

Severus meant to actually shower. He really did. But getting clean is now the last thing on his mind, and he breaks their frantic kiss to shuffle Remus over. He pulls the shower curtain back into place, because even though they live alone, it’s good to practice privacy. Remus waits patiently against the other side, back to the tiles. The water sprays thickly between them, though Severus gets the brunt of it. When he presses himself back up against Remus, the skin he finds is just as warm, if not warmer, than his own. Remus exudes heat just like he emits passion, and Severus forgets the shower. It’s just an excuse, really, to be here, bare, and together.

In a matter of seconds, they’re making out like the headless teenagers Severus teaches. His one arm and side is wet, and the rest of their bodies are dry, and Severus’ long hair clings to his forehead with the gathering steam. His erection presses into Remus’, which seems just as happy to be here. He slips a hand between them, touching everywhere he can before tracing around Remus’ side and gliding down his back. Remus moans into Severus’ mouth as Severus cups his boyfriend’s ass, slipping one digit at a time between those taut cheeks.

Breaking contact only to run breathless kisses along Severus’ cheek and jaw, Remus teases, “Do you want to ride me like a reind—” 

Severus cuts him off by grabbing a handful of ass hard enough to be painful and hisses, “Lupin, I swear to Merlin, if you make one more stupid innuendo—”

“You’ll do what?” Remus groans. “Empty your toy sack somewhere el—”

Severus effectively muffles him with a harsh kiss that slams Remus’ head back into the tile. The impact makes a loud cracking sound, and Remus whimpers into him, clutching desperately at his shoulders. Severus doesn’t apologize partially because werewolves heal rapidly, partially because he knows Remus likes it rough, and mainly because Remus deserves it.

Severus doesn’t make the mistake of separating them again. He keeps his tongue firmly down Remus’ throat as his hands play with Remus’ ass, fingers kneading the firm flesh. One hand parts his cheeks, the other rubs at Remus’ hole, and Remus croons into him, arching erotically and touching Severus everywhere. He still doesn’t separate them when he shifts to feel the shower wall across from them, underneath the faucet. He needs shampoo, or conditioner, or some other sort of gel. Anything he can use as lube without having to get out of the shower. It’s not a safe practice, of course, and they may have to use a healing and cleansing spell or two afterwards, but at the moment he doesn’t particularly care.

His hand connects with a soap dispenser (from the feel, probably conditioner) and he pumps a few globs into his hands without looking. Then he’s back to Remus’ behind, messily smearing the liquid down between his cheeks and finding his hole again. Severus kisses Remus the whole time, desperately working their mouths together. If he has to continue this all Christmas to keep the horrible jokes at bay, so be it. 

Severus has had worse Christmases by far. Specifically, every single one prior to dating Remus. 

Remus mewls when the first finger breaches him tenderly and shallowly, working in and out as their tongues battle. Severus knows he could do this quicker; he could shove all the way in to his knuckle and line his cock up with hardly any preparation. Remus would take it. Remus will take him rough, will take him gentle, will take him any way he is. But he’s gentle when he can be—when he can manage the patience. Remus is too precious to break, and Severus stretches him with care, tasting and touching along the way and never wanting it to end.

When it’s enough, Remus rips his head away, gasping for breath and rubbing against Severus’ body. Severus presses him harder into the tile and delights when Remus helpfully lifts a leg to his waist to get a better angle. Severus holds his dick to Remus’ entrance and pushes slowly into the tight ring of muscle. But Remus grabs his rear and pulls him sharply in, forcing his cock inside almost all the way. Severus moans loudly at the instant pressure. Remus is hopelessly tight as always, squeezing at him and holding onto him, twitching around him and making him pulse with pleasure back. Before he can regain enough of his bearings to move, Remus hops up suddenly, legs entwining around Severus’ hips. Severus grunts at the weight but manages to stay firm. Holding Remus against the tile helps. He grinds Remus into the wall greedily until he’s sure they’re stable enough to move.

Then he pulls out a little ways, not far enough for them to lose balance, but enough to be able to drive back in with enough force to make Remus cry out. As old and experienced as he is, Severus still can’t believe the incredible bliss that fills him, that rushes up his veins and clouds his head. He wants to be measured about it, calculated like he always is, so he can savour the moment. But he finds he can’t help himself; he wants nothing more than to piston into Remus’ tight hole again and again, and that’s exactly what he does. The wet heat envelops him and begs him for more, and he fucks Remus hard against the tile, grunting and hissing as Remus moans and gasps. The water dances off his side, and he ignores it, and the combined din of their colliding flesh and desperate panting overpowers the pitter-patter of the shower. Remus’ legs hold him tight and Remus’ hands claw at his shoulder blades. 

“S-Severus...” 

Severus turns his head to recapture Remus’ lips. On any other day, he’d relish the sound of his lover’s voice. But today he doesn’t want to hear it. He pounds into Remus over and over and struggles to keep that up, hard and heavy. He runs one hand back around Remus’ front, the other still clutching his ass and holding him up. Severus fists Remus roughly in time with his thrusts, hand still coated in now-sudsy conditioner. Their bodies are soaked in sweat and melted steam. Severus can feel the familiar pooling in his stomach, and he pumps Remus brutally.

Remus comes first with a strangled cry in Severus’ mouth, arching into him and tensing all around his cock. The spasming muscles push him over the edge, and Severus grunts, “ _Remus_ ,” as he explodes inside Remus’ body.

For a moment, they’re frozen in place, panting and sticky. Severus’ head is a clouded mess, and he waits for Remus to gingerly climb off him before he slumps forward, draping his spent body across Remus’.

Remus isn’t much sturdier, and he slips a little down the tile. He pecks Severus lightly on his swollen lips and mumbles, “I love you.”

Severus sighs reluctantly before doing what he knows he has to, but has still been trying to avoid all morning. He tries to look very rueful as he does it, to counterbalance the incredible brightness that is Remus’ instantaneous reaction.

“...Merry Christmas, Remus.”


End file.
